Eviction Notice, page 32
“Glad you came through, my nigga.” Tone walked up to greet Don B. He was wearing jeans and a wife beater with a pair of Gucci slippers on his feet. A blunt of some of the most potent weed Porsha had ever smelled dangled from his lips, dropping ashes on the carpet every time he said something.
“You know I had to let my presence be felt, B.” Don B. gave him dap.
“I see you brought li’l miss thing from the other night with you.” Tone looked Porsha up and down, licking his lips. His eyes were beet red and narrowed to slits. “What’s good?”
“Chilling,” she told him. “This is a nice place you have here.”
“It’s a’ight, just someplace to lay my head when I’m in New York,” he stunted. “Yo, y’all come on in and relax. Don, you probably know everybody already but if not you’ll get to know ’em before the night is over.” Tone walked to the other side of the living room, plucking two of the video hos from the group and disappearing around the corner with them.
“Yo, Don, let me holla at you for a minute. I got somebody I want you to meet,” someone called from across the room. Porsha recognized him as a popular R&B singer who had had a few number-one singles.
Don B. looked at Porsha for approval. “Go ahead and handle your business,” she told him.
“A’ight, I’ll be back in a sec. Why don’t you grab us a few drinks.” Don B. nodded at a gallon of Hennessy and some plastic cups that were on the mantel. He bopped over to the corner and began speaking with the singer and his entourage.
Porsha made her way across the living room to the makeshift bar, taking in the scene as she went. She had been to some wild parties before but this ranked up there with the wildest of them. In the corner on a love seat next to the patio door, two girls took turns snorting lines of coke off an album cover, while a man and a woman were squeezed in next to them, kissing and petting heavily. Porsha watched curiously as the man’s hand disappeared beneath the woman’s skirt and began fondling her sex. A small crowd had gathered to watch, but the couple didn’t seem to mind. Porsha managed to tear herself away from the show and continued toward the bottle.
She reached for the bottle but someone else beat her to it. She was a pretty Spanish girl with a big weave and pants that were so tight they looked like they’d split if she bent the wrong way. “My bad, you go ahead,” Porsha told her.
“How about you hold the cups and I pour,” the girl suggested.
Porsha balanced all three cups in her palms while the girl poured the drinks. “Thanks,” Porsha said, handing the girl her cup.
“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you signed to Big Dawg or just part of an entourage?” the girl asked.
“Neither,” Porsha said, not bothering to elaborate further.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m Macy,” the girl introduced herself.
“Porsha.”
“Wow, I love your haircut.” Macy reached out and touched Porsha’s stylish cut. When she pulled her hand away she let it brush against Porsha’s cheek.
“Excuse you.” Porsha pulled away.
“Relax, mama. It’s all good here. This must be your first time at one of Tone’s parties.” Macy smiled.
Porsha set her drink on the mantel and looked at Macy seriously. “Check this fly shit, I don’t know what you thought you were trying to do, but I ain’t that bitch, so if I were you I’d be the fuck easy.”
“Damn, you ain’t gotta be all stink about it. Bitch, if you ain’t with the program then what the fuck are you doing here?” Macy snapped.
Just then Don B. walked up. “What the fuck are you doing?” He glared at Macy.
“Chill, Don, I was just kicking it with ya li’l plaything. Maybe later on we can all play together.” Macy tried to wrap her arms around Don B.’s neck but he pushed her away.
“Macy, get your drunk ass outta here before I have you thrown out.”
“Fuck you, Don B. You always want a bitch to share her goodies but you never wanna share yours. I can’t stand a cuffing-ass nigga.” Macy stomped away.
“What the fuck was that bitch’s problem?” Porsha asked.
“Pay her no mind. Macy doesn’t know how to hold her liquor,” Don B. said, downplaying it.
“So is she one of your shorties or something, because she seems awful familiar?”
Don B. lowered his shades and looked at Porsha over the top. “If you’re asking me if I fucked her, yes. If you’re asking me if I’m still fucking her, no. Now are you gonna stand here giving me the third degree about how many of these skanks I ran through or are we gonna enjoy the party?” Porsha was still frowning, so Don B. tilted her chin up so that she was looking into his shaded eyes. “Listen, there ain’t gonna be too many places we go where I haven’t fucked a broad, but when I’m with you it’s not about my past, it’s about our future, smell me?”
“Okay.” Porsha’s face lit up a bit.
“That’s the pretty smile I like to see.” Don B. kissed her on the forehead. “Here, I brought you some wine in case that Hennessy is too strong for you. I don’t know if you can hang or not,” he teased her.
“Nigga, please. I say, why waste it.” Porsha took the Hennessy shot down. It felt like liquid fire going down her throat but she held her game face.
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby. Let’s go in the den, it’s too fucking noisy out here.” Don B. took her by the hand and led her through the house. As soon as they stepped into the den, Porsha found her eyes stinging from all the weed smoke in the air. The den was a little less hectic than the living room. Macy sat on a couch, whispering into the ear of a white girl with green eyes and red hair who wore a see-through blouse and no bra. Macy fondled the girl’s pink nipple through her shirt while giving her shotguns from the blunt in her mouth. Porsha was glad she had found someone else to focus her attentions on. Tone lounged on the floor on a bearskin carpet between the two girls he had disappeared with. They took body shots off him while he watched Scarface on the big-screen television mounted on the wall with the volume muted. One of Don B.’s unreleased tracks played through the surround sound speakers mounted on the walls.
“Damn, your crew goes hard, don’t they,” Porsha said, watching the two girls on the floor licking the excess liquor off each other’s lips.
“That’s the only way Big Dawgz know how to party,” Don B. told her, leading her to an unoccupied couch on the other side of the room. Once they were comfortable, he fired up a blunt. The smell of the weed was so tart that it made Porsha sneeze. “This is that good shit.” Don B. passed her the blunt. Porsha took two baby pulls and started coughing. “Slow down, mama. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“That shit is harsh,” Porsha said between coughs.
“Sip some of that wine to wet your whistle.” Don B. pushed her cup toward her.
Porsha took a gulp of the wine and frowned. It tasted especially bitter, even for red wine. “How long are we staying here?”
“Only for a li’l while. We gonna blow a few Ls, then get up outta here,” Don B. promised.
The few minutes turned into a few hours. Porsha and Don B. smoked weed and did shots while sipping the bitter wine and listening to Don B.’s CD. Between the liquor and the weed, it felt like the temperature had jumped up by two hundred degrees. She got up to go to the den’s bathroom to throw some water on her face and stumbled.
“You okay?” Don B. asked, blowing smoke rings into the air. Somehow Macy had made her way from the couch where she had been sitting with the white girl over to the couch Don B. was on.
“I’m fine,” Porsha lied and shut herself inside the little bathroom.
When she was gone, Macy gave Don B. knowing look, to which he smiled and began stroking her thigh.
Porsha sat on the toilet seat and put her head between her legs to try to get it to stop spinning. Every time she tried to lift it, the room seemed to move. She finally managed to stand up and walk to the bathroom sink, where she planted her palms and tried to catch her breath. Her heart was beating so fast that it made her nervous. Porsha splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to clear her head. The bathroom door clicked open, making Porsha’s head snap up, which turned out to be a mistake. She had barely made it to the toilet before the wine and the French food they’d eaten earlier came shooting out. Every time she heaved she felt like she was trying to push her lower intestines out through her mouth.
“Looks like somebody went a little too hard.” Don B. helped her to her feet and over to the sink.
“I am so sorry, Don,” Porsha said, flushing her mouth with water. “It must’ve been something I ate at the restaurant because I never call earl.”
“There’s a first time for everything when you’re partying with the best. Don’t worry, the Don’s got you,” he said, rubbing her back.
Porsha looked up at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen and her pupils were dilated. “I look a hot fucking mess.”
“Nah, you look just fine to me.” He began planting kisses on the back of her neck. Don B. turned Porsha around to face him and began kissing her tenderly along her jawline.
The feel of his lips on her skin sent unexpected waves of pleasure through Porsha and it became hard for her to think. “Wait a minute, let me get myself together.” She laid her hands on his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but her arms felt like noodles.
“You good.” He slipped his tongue into her mouth. Don B. kissed Porsha passionately, kneading her breast like pizza dough. She was barely able to stand on her own, let alone resist his advances. When Don B. had slipped the crushed pill into her drink he’d known it would hit her before long, but he’d had no idea it would hit her that hard.
“I don’t feel so good,” Porsha moaned as he slipped his fingers in and out of her.
“I’m about to make you feel great,” Don B. rasped in her ear, trying to get his dick out of his pants. He lifted her skirt and began fumbling with her panties. Porsha tried to push his hands away, but he ignored her weak attempts and kept at it. He was so hard that he almost scraped himself on his zipper trying to get it free.
When Porsha felt Don B. slip himself inside her, she gasped. His thick cock split her lips and tapped the deepest part of her walls. “Damn, I want you but not like this,” she said almost incoherently, moaning.
“When opportunity knocks, you gotta answer the door, ma.” Don B. reached over and cut out the light, still buried inside Porsha. She felt so good that he wanted to live inside her.
Porsha’s head continued to spin as Don B. stroked her on the bathroom counter. He thrust himself inside her so hard that she leaned over and threw up in the sink, but that didn’t stop his pumping. Porsha’s head knocked up against the mirror as he dug into her faster and faster. She heard the bathroom door click open again and the last thing she saw was someone else slip into the bathroom just before she passed out.
CHAPTER 45
King James had been unusually quite that night. Sahara met him uptown and they went for a bite at Applebee’s before hitting Harlem Lanes for some bowling. It was supposed to be an intimate night with just he and Sahara until the big surprise, but to her disappointment he brought Dump along. He gave them a wide berth, not interfering with their date directly, but the fact that he was around irritated her. When Sahara asked King why Dump was there, he brushed her off, promising to tell her later. Something was going on with King but Sahara wasn’t sure what it was.
King had found himself reflecting on his confrontation with Shai for most of the day. He had gone through his plan a million times before actually stepping to Shai, but in the blink of an eye it all had gone to shit and he’d found himself with a potentially volatile situation on his hands. Until then he had had the advantage of knowing his opponent without Shai’s even realizing that he existed, but that was gone and the crime lord was well aware of King James and his position. Now the question remained as to what Shai would do with the information.
“It’s your turn, baby,” Sahara said, snaping him out of his daze.
“Sorry.” King got up and grabbed the bowling ball as it came out of the shoot. He tried to focus on the pin that was second left from the center, but his roll was totally off and the ball bounced into the gutter. “Fuck.”
“Damn, baby, your game is suspect tonight. What’s good with you?” Sahara asked.
“I got a lot of shit on my mind right now.” He picked up her vodka and cranberry and took a sip.
“Now I know something is up because I’ve hardly seen you drink and never clear liquor. What’s good, baby?”
“Nothing, babe.” King kissed her on the forehead. “Just stressing over some niggaz I got into it with last night.”
“King, what happened yesterday will still be there for you to dwell on tomorrow. It’s your birthday and I brought you out so you can have a good time, even if we do have a third wheel with us.” She looked over at Dump, who was leaning against the shoe-rental counter.
“You’re right,” he told her, but his mind was still firmly wrapped around the situation with Shai. “I’ll be back, I gotta take a leak.” He got up and started off to the bathroom. The bathroom was empty when he first walked in, but as he undid his pants over the urinal someone else walked in. He was a heavyset kid who had a very familiar face, but King couldn’t place him right off.
“What’s good?” the kid said to King as he took the urinal next to his.
King just nodded, as he had never been a fan of talking while he had his dick out. The whole time he pissed, he could feel the kid’s eyes on him. He was either gay or up to something, and the staring made King uncomfortable. He shook himself and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. The kid moved to the sink directly beside him. Through the mirror King could see the kid staring at him more openly now and his heart began to pound.
“You’re King James, right?” the kid asked.
“Yeah,” King said, already calculating the best counter for whatever came at him.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” The kid started to raise his hand and found himself in a bad way.
King caught him with a quick right hook and immediately grabbed the kid’s Adam’s apple between his index and middle knuckle, cutting off his air. The kid gasped frantically as King slammed him against the wall and then the mirror, shattering it. “Who sent you?” King snarled into his face.
“No … nobody.” The kid gasped.
King slammed him against the mirror again. “I seen how you was looking at me, God. Who the fuck are you and where you know me from?”
“Downstate,” the kid blurted out.
When he called the name of the prison it rung a bell in King’s head as one of the many fine establishments he had visited, so he released his grip a bit, but not enough to let the kid move. “What about Downstate?”
“It’s me, Sammy. We were in Downstate together in 2001. You left me all those books when they moved you. I was just trying to say what’s up. You don’t remember me?”
King studied his face, looking for signs that he was being deceived. He did recognize him! Sammy had put on about twenty pounds of muscle but his face was still the same. “Oh, shit, my bad, sun.” King released him. “I thought you were somebody else. When did you touch down?”
“A few weeks ago.” Sammy tried to catch his breath. He balanced himself on the sink and looked up at King fearfully. “I was only trying to say what’s up.”
“Sammy, I’m sorry about that, man.” King reached out to help him, but Sammy jumped back. “Hey, at least let me buy you a drink.”
“Nah, I’m straight. I got some people waiting on me.” Sammy skirted around King to the bathroom exit.
“Well, it was good seeing you, Sammy, holla at me,” King called after him but Sammy was already gone. He looked at himself in the cracked bathroom mirror and sighed. He was letting Shai turn him into a basket case and he still wasn’t sure if they even had a problem. To Shai, someone like King James was too insignificant to even put the energy into. “Fuck this,” he said, determined not to let Shai ruin his birthday. “We out,” King said to Sahara when he came out of the bathroom.
“Wait a second, we haven’t bowled all of our frames,” Sahara pointed out.
“Fuck that game, boo. This is my birthday and I’m ready to start getting it in. Let’s go hit a club or something and get crazy.”
“I know a nice place we can go,” Sahara offered.
* * *
Holiday sat behind the wheel of the Honda Accord parked across the street from the bowling alley, right next to the State Building. He was dressed all in black with a pair of gloves tucked into the top pocket of his fatigue jacket. In the backseat were two young boys who were desperately trying to get down with Holiday. When Shai had given the word to handle King James, he’d decided to give them the opportunity to make their bones. What King had done wasn’t a major infraction, but Shai wanted him to serve as an example of his new zero tolerance policy.
Holiday watched King James, Sahara, and Dump come out of the front and get into a green Suburban that had been parked at the curb. He waited until they pulled through the light on 125th Street and Seventh Avenue before following.
* * *
Frankie checked the pockets of her hoodie and realized that she had more money than product on her, which meant she had to take another trip to the crib. This would be the third trip she took that night. Once word had gotten out that Frankie had some bomb-ass work, the fiends had started coming steadily. In two nights of hustling she had managed to get up her end of the rent money, what she owed Cutty, and still have some bread left over for herself. If Scatter had never been right about anything else, he was right about how sweet drug money was. Frankie had promised herself that it would be a one-shot deal, but the more she trapped, the more she considered getting some more coke from Cutty.
